Sunday, June 28, 2015

Elizabeth
von
Arnim's
charming novel was a popular success in the 20s – this stage
version by Matthew Barber made something of a Broadway hit some
eighty years later.

It's
a sentimental piece, in which four ladies from the capital's
middle classes, united by a longing for wisteria and sunshine, find
both, and themselves, in San
Salvatore.

There
are nine scenes before the interval, four after. Barber suggests that
the actors, or costumed servants, should manage the props. Difficult
to achieve, but otherwise, as here, even an efficient stage crew
will slow the action and lose the flow. He also suggests that the sea
and the gardens should be imagined out behind the audience,
presumably leaving warm stone-work and wisteria as a back-drop. Pete
Goodwin's design effectively replaces the dull black and brown of
London with a riot of colour for the Genoese coast, earning a round
of applause for the big reveal after the interval. And
the incessant sound of English rain is replaced by continental
railways as Italy approaches.

Two
very different ladies plot their escape. Jodee Goodwin's Pollyanna
Lotty and Leila Francis's “disappointed Madonna” Rose, nicely
contrasted in Nick Caton's production. A much more dramatic contrast
between the other two women, who answer the advertisement to share
the cost of the castello. “Donna
Carolina”, Lady Bramble, is an elegant butterfly, played with some
style and fabulous frocks by Shelley Goodwin, and the redoubtable Mrs
Graves, delightfully done by Liz Curley, as she sheds her hat, her
stick
and her inhibitions in the Italian sunshine.

The
owner of the villa is Chris Rogerson, Costanza
the volatile maid, Sharon Goodwin.

The
menfolk who eventually join the ladies in Liguria are Arnott, alias
Florian Ayres, writer of “romantic biography” [Jeremy Pruce] and
Wilton, a scene-stealing Daniel Curley, plucking his nasal hair and
only just preserving his dignity with a bath towel. And his Italian,
at least, was meant
to sound mangled …

Some
fine performances here, with Lotty's character sympathetically
developed. But the middle-class metropolitan milieu sometimes proved
elusive, and on opening night there was some insecurity in lines and
names.

The
ever-resourceful refreshment team had come up with Paradiso Punch
this time, limoncello
the secret ingredient.

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Not
for the first time, a world première for the Waltham Singers. For
the 2015 summer concert they'd chosen A Sense of Place for their
theme, and commissioned Jeffery
Wilson to write a work
in which the Singers could be joined by
the Fibre Optics
choir from New Hall School, both directed by Andrew Fardell.

“Songs
of Home” proved an enjoyably accessible collection, with pictorial
Haikus and Essex folk embraced within the ancient Offices of the Old
Religion, the children's voices leading the way. Good to hear a fresh
setting of Bushes and Briars, first collected in Ingrave by Ralph
Vaughan Williams, and a “Ballad of Politics” of the same
Edwardian vintage, penned by Charles Benham in the authentic accent
of rural Essex.

The
youngsters brought
us another local composer, Armstrong Gibbs, with a lively setting of
Five Eyes by Walter de la Mare.

And
they gave a commendably crisp account of London Bells, the central
setting in Bob Chilcott's Songs and Cries of London Town, which also
featured a lovely lilting Flower of Cities All.

From
further
afield, Peter Maxwell Davies' Kestrel Road, with words from the
Orkney poet George Mackay Brown, a joint commission of ten years ago.
Good to have the words recited as well as sung; this evocative
sequence
was perhaps the piece mostly firmly rooted in its location – kirk
and croft, school and smithy, manse and mill. Excellently sung, too,
especially the challenging slow movement Windfall.

And
to start, Elgar's tunefully Romantic Songs of the Bavarian Highlands
– beautifully controlled clarity in False Love, and a lilting piano
part in Lullaby.

The
two accompanists – Laurence Lyndon-Jones and Weston Jennings –
probably clocked up the most Air Miles, with duet Dances from Hungary
and the Ukraine, Brahms and Dvorak.

A
refreshingly eclectic summer offering, performed with the enthusiasm
and attention to detail that make this choir so reliably impressive.

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Ray
Cooney
is the king of low farce, a genre that seems very dated these days.
But, like the equally improbable Restoration Comedy, given a strong
cast and determined direction it can still give an audience a jolly
good evening out.

And
so it proves on the Brentwood stage, with June Fitzgerald's pacy
production zipping
through the preposterous plot with breathtaking audacity. It's
the usual tottering edifice of lies and deception erected to conceal
old-fashioned infidelity with a nubile secretary.

The
solid company
is led by William Wells as the amusingly named Richard Willey, a
junior minister – or
PM's lapdog -
in John
Major's government. An absolute master of the style, with voice,
timing and double-takes honed and polished to perfection. His
sidekick – the hapless PPS George Pigden –
is in the equally safe hands of Gary Ball; their
work together is satisfyingly
assured: the business with the mysterious stiff – a private dick,
it turns out, played by Justin Cartledge – is priceless.

Romy
Brooks looks and sounds convincing as the seductive
socialist
totty, Ben Martins rages as her jealous husband. A nice understated
performance from Richard Spong as the obliging bell-hop in the
Westminster Hotel, in whose snazzy suite, with its dodgy sash window,
the action takes place.

Not
without a few technical hitches, though the window itself,
punctuating the quick-fire dialogue, behaved well. Not sure about
leaving the 90s for “the present” - as usual mobile phones are
the stumbling block – and the British Museum hasn't had a Reading
Room since
1997.

But
a fine revival of a classic of its kind, complete with dropped
trousers and saucy glimpses of bare buttocks – never ask me whose …

Thursday, June 18, 2015

I
still clearly recall my first schools' choir festival. Conducted by
the formidable Dr WH Swinburne, with local
celebrity, Gielgud's first Juliet,
Gwen Ffrangcon-Davies the guest of honour.

Nearly
sixty years ago, now. Hard to tell at this distance, but I don't
think we had as much fun as this year's Civic massed choirs, and I'm
sure we weren't nearly as entertaining.

The
Civic was packed for four nights with proud parents and restless
siblings. And the stage was packed with 150 or so youngsters, from
six schools on the night I looked in, with 27 schools taking part
over the four nights
of the Festival.

They
trooped on to Heigh Ho from Snow White, and show tunes made up most
of the programme. A finger-snapping Singin'
in the Rain was followed by a beautifully disciplined Over The
Rainbow. Grease, Dirty Dancing – hand-jive was as dirty as it got –
and, most impressively, The Rhythm of Life from Sweet Charity.

After
the obligatory thank-yous, everyone took to their feet for an
arm-waving encore of Fame.

The
core work this year was The Return of the Glass Slipper; not a
sequel, but a mini-musical with narrators. Mostly forgettable in the
company of Disney, Bart and the rest, but a nice Calypso This
Generation
and a Spanish I'm
Lovely.

No
interval, but two breathers for the singers, with charming novelty
numbers by an eleven-year-old trombonist, and accompanist Danielle
Harding-Smith joining MD Natalie Thurlow at the piano.

Natalie's
infectious enthusiasm and solid direction were
key factors
in the success of the evening. All 150 pairs of eyes were on her, as
she guided them through the changes of tempo and key, and some
brilliant dramatic pauses.

A
real pleasure to see these youngsters experience the thrill of
singing together, and the contagious joy of performance.

Friday, June 12, 2015

Blackmore
on splendid Fifties form for this classic tale of the alien avocado
invader.

It's
a cult show, and comes encrusted with traditions worthy of D'Oyly
Carte. The Players pay homage to most of them, but manage to keep the
show fresh and immediate.

The
audience is immersed in the action from the off, with hobos and
hookers and all the noisy denizens of Skid Row roaming the auditorium
in search of a trick to turn or a bench for the night. And we are all
immersed in the show, too, with a traverse acting area [impressively
paved]. Especially effective for the nightmare dentist sequence, with
Rob Lewis-Jones's wonderfully terrifying semi-sadist entering through
green smoke and terrorising poor Seymour right under our noses. It's
a risky strategy, particularly for a musical with everyone miked up,
but the only down-side was an audible buzz under some dialogue.

This
is a rural community group, with strictly local talent, performing in
a multi-purpose village hall [with one of the most keenly priced
theatre bars in the land]. But no compromises are made, in a great
example of what can be achieved with inspiring, clear-sighted
direction [Bill Edwards in the hot seat for this one, with
choreography by Denise Jackson]. There's no pit, of course, but a
great little band in the corner, with MD Shirley Parrott at the
keyboard.

The
cast is impressively strong. Craig Stevens makes a nicely nervous
Seymour, with his geeky specs and baseball cap – superb singer,
too. His Audrey is Lisa Rawlings; vocally assured, carefully
characterized. It's a pity she gives most of her big number sitting
on the stoop, invisible to almost all the audience.

Audrey
II – the star of the show, really, with its multicoloured warts and
gore-stained maw – is excellently voiced by Bill Edwards himself,
with the expressive flora [uncredited] manipulated by John Hughes.

Mushnik,
gravel-toned and fundamentally jolly despite everything, is
engagingly played by Simon Haskell, who also provides the portentous
voice in the prologue.

The
three backing singers – Ronnette, Chiffon, Crystal – are
authentically sung by Gail Hughes, Sandra Trott and Amy Pudney, with
stunning show dresses for the finale; perhaps they could have been a
little more engaged with the plot emotionally, though.

Memorable
cameos from many others, including Charley Magee's Bernstein and
Martin Herford's Skip Snip, and a big bold chorus of all ages and
abilities.

Lots
of detail to admire, even to those of us who are very familiar with
the show. A nice new clock after renovation, with Mushnik's favourite
fedora still hanging underneath. A nice brickwork scene curtain; I
longed to see an actor walk across with it – much more dramatic.
And a brilliantly helpful glossary in the programme, with useful
reminders of Vitalis, Lucille Ball and Hedy Lamarr ...production photograph - Kira Louise Photography

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Verdi
rewritten for the millennium by John and Rice. Embraced by Broadway,
but still unseen in the West End, while Giuseppe's original still
packs the Albert Hall.

Like
Billy Elliott and Lion King, it relies on an existing success. But
here the new version adds little, bringing only bathos and banality
to the “timeless love story”.

A
splendid start to Springers' ambitious staging, with 1920s ladies in
cloche hats wandering amongst museum vitrines,
including the life-size statue of Amneris, who steps out of her glass
case to start the story.

Gary
Jarvis's production is at its best in the set pieces, like the Nile
laundry, or the witty spa number with its elegant fashion parade, or
the torches for the patriotic Act One finale.

The
chorus – Egyptian guards and Nubian slaves, all women – is
effectively used and strikingly costumed. Ian Myers leads his singers
confidently through the various genres – gospel, reggae and the
rest.

Amyserin
Leslie is a funny,
forcefulAmneris,
Kieran Young a nicely characterized slave boy. In the title role, Lex
Phillips
makes an excellent advocate for Elton's pop ballad tunes; her
youthful, ripped Rameses is done with some style and a strong vocal
presence by Ben Wilton.

Tuesday, June 09, 2015

A
stunning showcase for Havering College's performing arts faculty,
with dozens of talented students taking over the Hornchurch stage and
their friends, families and supporters filling the auditorium.

So
much inventive work to enjoy, performed with professional polish by
these enthusiastic young people.

Sousa
with tutus in Stars and Stripes, a classy hybrid Tuxedo Junction, a
sinister, stylish Thriller.

Classical
ballet – an impressive Sleeping Beauty with lifts and disciplined
corps de ballet. Sophisticated show dancing in the opening number,
Burn the Floor, a blink-and-you-miss-it literal interpretation of
Movies were Movies, and terrific tap in Cabin Pressure, where Karen
Hardy followed hard on the heels of Catch Me If You Can.

Friday, June 05, 2015

This
cult musical is a cultivar of the 1960 Corman film; from modest
origins off-Broadway, it has grown into a major industry, with
community groups drawn to its catchy tunes and off-the-wall story.
Specialist plantsmen supply the various Audrey IIs, from dwarf to
magnifolia.

You'd
wait a long time to see a more perfect specimen than this joint
production with the Mercury's Wiltshire twin, the Salisbury
Playhouse, the work of its Artistic Director Gareth Machin.

Everything
about it feels absolutely
right. James
Button's fantastic design, inspired in part by the street photography
of Vivian Maier turns Skid Row
into a three-storey slum, with Richard Reeday's band on the first
floor above the shop. The subway rumbles beneath, while a corrugated
curtain flies out to reveal the eponymous shop, which
begins as a fly-blown failure and blossoms into Mishkin and Son.

The
staging is full of ingenious ideas: the snapper and the hooker, the
two clocks, the four phones, the bins, the magazines, the newspaper
with the total eclipse on its front page and the faded poster for
Attack of the Puppet People, another cult schlock horror classic. The
costumes are
clever too, embracing
the “cheap and tasteless outfits” of
the 1950s:
the skirt of roses, the leopard-skin sling.

The
excellent vocal trio – a grungy Greek chorus – branch out from
“worthless ragamuffins” to plant-costumed
backing group
and botanical operatives taking the cuttings which will propagate
this strange and unusual plant world-wide.

Crystal,
Chiffon and Ronette - Gbemisola
Ikumelo, Karis Jack, Carole
Stennett – are a key part of this production, their numbers
superbly choreographed by Nick Winston. They pop up in the gutter, on
the balcony, out of the drains to tempt Seymour in Suppertime.

She's
played by Frances McNamee, with a great vocal presence and a
winningly vulnerable look in her Fay Wray nightgown.

Simeon
Truby makes a wonderful Mushnik, and Jez Unwin is not only the rebel
dentist
in
leather, with his quiff and 'tache, a glorious hybrid of Elvis and
Vincent Price, but also, in quick succession, Bernstein, Martin,
and the wife of the editor of Time Magazine. Ben Stott is an
exquisite Seymour: slight, speccy, his every movement speaking
volumes.

The
three carnivorous
plants
are impressive, too, voiced by Leon Craig and animated by Andrew
London. Tapping its feet to the Senior and Junior Schtick, grabbing
its prey, turning its head knowingly, belching when Seymour finally
succumbs.

The
whole show feels almost operatic [in a good way], with the cast
squeezing every last drop out of Ashman's book and Menken's music.

I
half expected the height of the set to be used to make
Audrey II
tower like a beanstalk – instead, in
a much
more effective finale,
singing
clones
appear on the upper levels and, as in the 1982
original, suckers drop down over the audience, threatening to devour
all these enthusiastic young theatre-goers bathed in a ghastly
leafy-green light ...

Thursday, June 04, 2015

Puck
and the
fairies are frequently female; Dawn French was a wonderful Bottom a
few years back. But a quartet of lesbian lovers – “Jill
shall have Jill” -
is surely a first, just one of the fresh ideas in Jim Crozier's
updated Dream.

No
such liberalism in the Athenian trade guilds, though, where the rude
mechanicals – a plumber and a brickie now in their ranks – are
all blokes.
The patriarchal society that allows Peter
Nerreter's fine Egeus to invoke the “law strictly provided”, even
in equal marriage, shows no sign of softening.

Modern
dress all round, with colourful Romany-themed garb for the fairy
denizens of the Athenian wood. Modern music too, with a nice original
score from Owain Jones, and Daft Punk for the boom-box bergamasque.

The
lovers are never an easy call, and there is
little fun in their misadventures
here – some strong performances, though, with good verse speaking
from Mabel Odonkor's Lysanda in particular.

Moonshine's
back-pack dog, Flute's smartphone, the disco dancing, the factory
hooter and the car horn, the moody fairies and the torn leggings –
all evidence of a fertile imagination and a desire to please a 21st
century audience. But pointless pauses and lacklustre deliverytend
to impede
“the passion of loud laughter” in
this otherwise interesting and entertaining Dream.

Tuesday, June 02, 2015

Hot
on the heels of The Rehearsal next door, another Jeremy Sams show,
with another family pile shrouded at the start, and another outbreak
of amateur theatricals amongst the aristocracy.

This
time it's his new book [with Robert Hudson] for A Damsel In Distress,
the wickedly pleasurable cocktail of Wodehouse and Gershwin, based
on the Hollywood hit
of
1937.

The
action switches between the Savoy Theatre and the Marshmortons'
Gloucestershire seat. Kicking off withe a formulaic but hugely
enjoyable Things Are Looking Up: tap line, upright pian, backstage
busy-ness and frocks on rails.

Kitty
in the City is the show; its author, George [Richard Fleeshman],
seeks a purpose in life, and finds it in the shape of Summer
Strallen's Maud,
on the run from her formidable aunt [Isla Blair, excellent].

The
plot is thin and silly, but is carried triumphantly by a string of
memorable Gershwin numbers – Stiff Upper Lip, with more tap
dancing, one of the best – and uniformly impeccalbe performances.
Desmond
Barritt as Keggs, the lugubrious butler, given to quoting the Bard,
Nicholas Farrell superb as the Lord of the Manor whose love for his
pigs and his roses is eventually shared by Billie [Sally Ann
Triplett]. And, stealing the scene in a patisserie extravaganza,
David Roberts' delectable French chef.

This
shameless cult musical is nearly a quarter of a century old now; the
story it recycles has its origins in medieval Germany.

But
it's set very firmly in the suburban 1970s, with music all the way
from Donna Summer to Johnny Rotten. More tongue-in-cheek campery, wit
and wisdom than your average juke box musical, given a storming
performance by Cut to the Chase, the Queen's own company – heavily
augmented for the occasion.

No
fewer than twelve actor/musicians, led, as is customary, by an
outrageous drag queen. In the wonderful home-made-in-Hornchurch
tradition of the Queen's, they've come up with Lady Felicia, dear
friend and distant cousin of Hornchurch favourite Fred Broom. More
grab-a-granny than disco diva, she does time the carry-on comedy
wickedly well, sells a series of sassy songs, and comes on in an
impressive collection of flamboyant frocks, reflecting the genre of
the musical numbers: a country music momma, the Iron Lady, a naughty
nun in a Sister Act moment for the wedding.

Everyone
else gets to dress up, too, with more changes than cruise ship chorus
boys, from the beige polyester of domesticity to glam rock, ballroom,
punk and lounge. One spectacular quick change – from supermarket to
sequinned ball gowns – deserved its round of stunned applause.

Our
Faustian hero is Joe Soap, the excellent Matthew Quinn, who handles
the styles and the story with confident ease. He's tempted by
Felicia's Lucy Fur [no subtlety tonight] to leave his ballroom
partner and fiancée [Sarah Mahony] for the sinful charms of Miss Hot
Stuff herself [Hollie Cassar]. Straight out of university, Cameron
Jones makes a suave and slightly creepy narrator, mouthpiece for
Satan, the “dark puppet-master”. Between the five of them, they
carry most of the numbers, backed by a superb ensemble quartet,
including choreographer Valentina Dolci, guitar, bass and drums. The
keyboards and, memorably, a saxophone solo, are played by whoever
happens to be available – really virtuosic versatility.

The
tunes are a nostalgia-fest for the older audience – Nobody Does It
Better, My Way [Sid Vicious version], Stand By Your Man, Wuthering
Heights and Welcome Home. The title number, too, of course, and
dozens more, including a clever TESCO parody of the old Ottowan hit
DISCO. And culminating in that empty anthem We Are The Champions.

All
done with a polished professionalism - “Jimmy Filth”'s God Save
The Queen is preceded by a totally tasteless Peters and Lee [Jones
and Felicia] and followed by three chaps in tuxes backing Miss Hot
Stuff channelling Carly Simon. This kind of gentle send-up will only
work if, as here, it's rooted in affection and secure performance
technique.

As
ever, the gorgeous costumes and the scarlet and black set [banks of
speakers and dazzling lights] are all done in house.

The
show is directed by Matt Devitt with Julian Littman looking after the
music – Queen's regulars both – and manages to combine a
high-energy clap-along night out with a morality musical cabaret. A
potent mix, deservedly cheered to the rafters by the audience on
opening night.

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About Me

I first wrote reviews for the Essex Chronicle in the early 70s, part of a team led by "Jon Richards". When he stepped down, I took over the organization of the Arts Pages. In 1988 I was succeeded by Mary Redman, though I continued to contribute reviews until the Chronicle stopped carrying regular coverage of amateur performances. Peter Andrews of the Chelmsford Weekly News kindly allowed me to write for his paper. After he retired, his work was continued by Jim Hutchon, who recruited me again to share the load. After Jim died, I continued to provide professional reviews of arts events in and around Chelmsford and Brentwood, until I finally hung up my pen and my word processor in December 2017.
Apart from the newspaper - now The Chelmsford Times - my views have appeared on The Reviews Hub, Remote Goat and Sardines. And of course, all of them were shared on this blog.